Chloe stared at us as if she had just discovered the greatest conspiracy of her life.

I wanted the floor to open beneath me.

Alexander, meanwhile, looked completely calm.

Too calm.

Chloe pointed at him.

“How long?”

Alexander frowned.

“How long what?”

“How long have you liked Sarah?”

He glanced at me.

That tiny movement was enough.

Chloe gasped.

“Oh my God. It’s been YEARS.”

“Chloe,” I warned.

She ignored me.

Then she turned toward me.

“And you?”

“I’m going home.”

I grabbed my bag.

Alexander stepped aside instead of stopping me.

That somehow irritated me more.

After confessing that our almost-kiss had mattered to him, he was going to stand there as if nothing had happened?

Perfect.

I reached the door.

“Sarah.”

I stopped.

Alexander’s voice had lost its teasing tone.

“I’ll take you home.”

“No.”

“It’s late.”

“I can call a car.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you coming?”

He picked up his jacket.

“Because we need to talk.”

Chloe appeared between us.

“Yes, you absolutely do.”

Alexander looked at her.

“And you absolutely need to stop using Sarah as an alibi.”

Her smile vanished.

“One crisis at a time, brother.”

Twenty minutes later, Alexander and I were sitting inside his car.

Neither of us spoke.

Finally, I broke the silence.

“So?”

“So what?”

“You wanted to talk.”

He tightened his hands around the steering wheel.

“I owe you an explanation.”

“For three years ago?”

“Yes.”

I looked out the window.

“You already explained. I was twenty. You were twenty-seven. I was Chloe’s friend.”

“That wasn’t the real reason.”

I turned back.

Alexander was staring through the windshield.

“The real reason was that I was leaving.”

My anger paused.

“Leaving where?”

“Overseas assignment.”

I knew his work involved long absences, but Chloe had always been careful about details.

“How long?”

“I didn’t know.”

“And you couldn’t tell me?”

“I couldn’t tell anyone much.”

His voice became quieter.

“That night, when I almost kissed you, I had orders to leave forty-eight hours later.”

I stared at him.

“So you rejected me because you were leaving?”

“I stopped because I knew what would happen if I didn’t.”

“What?”

He finally looked at me.

“I would have asked you to wait.”

My heart stumbled.

“And I had no right to do that.”

I swallowed.

“You could have told me afterward.”

“I tried.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I wrote to you.”

I laughed.

“Alexander, you never sent me anything.”

His expression changed.

“I did.”

“No.”

“Three letters.”

The car became silent.

I searched his face for a joke.

There wasn’t one.

“Where did you send them?”

“To your apartment.”

“I never received them.”

He stared at me.

Then his jaw tightened.

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

That was obviously not nothing.

“Alexander.”

He shook his head.

“Let me confirm something first.”

He drove me home.

Before I got out, he said:

“Sarah.”

I turned.

“Don’t invent Daniel Zhou again.”

Despite myself, I laughed.

“You interrogated an imaginary man for two days.”

“I disliked him.”

“He didn’t exist.”

“I dislike him even more for wasting my time.”

I closed the door before he could see me smiling.

The next morning, Chloe arrived at my apartment carrying coffee and guilt.

“I have something to confess.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“What did you do?”

“Why do you automatically assume I did something?”

“Experience.”

She sat down.

“Okay. Fair.”

Then she placed three envelopes on my table.

My name was written across each one.

In Alexander’s handwriting.

I stopped breathing.

“Chloe.”

“I can explain.”

“Those are the letters.”

“I know.”

“You had them?”

She covered her face.

“I was seventeen!”

I stared at her.

“You stole my mail?”

“I didn’t steal it permanently.”

“It has been three years!”

“That became more permanent than expected.”

I picked up the first envelope.

Still sealed.

“Why?”

Chloe’s expression finally became serious.

“Because Alexander had already spent his entire life sacrificing things for me.”

I said nothing.

“When our dad died, he stopped acting like my brother and became my parent. Then Mom left. He worked, studied, cooked, went to school meetings, paid bills…”

Her eyes lowered.

“Then I saw that letter addressed to you.”

“And?”

“I panicked.”

“About what?”

“That he would choose you.”

That answer erased my anger for a moment.

“Chloe…”

“I know it was stupid.”

She wiped her eyes.

“I thought if you two got together, everything would change. Maybe you’d move away. Maybe he’d stop putting me first.”

I sat beside her.

“You should have trusted us.”

“I know.”

She pushed the letters toward me.

“I’m sorry.”

I didn’t open them.

Not yet.

Because suddenly another thought occurred to me.

“Did Alexander know you took them?”

“No.”

“Chloe.”

Her eyes widened.

“He knows now, doesn’t he?”

Someone knocked.

Three times.

Chloe whispered:

“I may have told him this morning.”

“You WHAT?”

The knocking came again.

Chloe grabbed her bag.

“I should leave.”

“You’re not abandoning me again!”

“I’ve learned nothing from history!”

She ran toward the kitchen.

I opened the door.

Alexander stood outside.

No uniform.

Black shirt.

Expression unreadable.

“Where is she?”

I pointed toward the kitchen.

Chloe shouted:

“I’m not here!”

Alexander closed his eyes.

“Unbelievable.”

Then he noticed the letters on the table.

His expression changed completely.

“You have them.”

“Yes.”

“Did you read them?”

“No.”

“Why?”

I folded my arms.

“Maybe I enjoy making you nervous.”

He stared at me.

“You’ve improved at it.”

From the kitchen, Chloe called:

“Are you flirting while I’m hiding?”

“Go home, Chloe,” Alexander said.

She appeared.

“You’re not going to lecture me?”

“Tomorrow.”

Her face fell.

“Tomorrow sounds worse.”

“It is.”

She kissed my cheek and hurried out.

Then Alexander and I were alone.

Again.

He looked at the envelopes.

“I meant everything I wrote.”

“I haven’t read them.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t spoil them.”

A faint smile appeared.

“Fine.”

I picked up the first letter.

Before I could open it, his phone rang.

Alexander checked the screen.

His expression immediately hardened.

“What happened?”

He didn’t answer.

He walked toward the window.

“Yes?”

I couldn’t hear the person on the other end.

But I saw Alexander’s posture change.

The softer man from seconds earlier disappeared.

When the call ended, he turned toward me.

“I have to go.”

My stomach sank.

“Another assignment?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

He hesitated.

“Something from three years ago has resurfaced.”

I looked at the letters.

“Related to these?”

“Not exactly.”

He picked up his jacket.

Then stopped.

“There’s something else I should tell you before you read them.”

“What?”

Alexander looked at me for several seconds.

“The night we almost kissed, I wasn’t at Chloe’s apartment by accident.”

I frowned.

“You lived there.”

“I’d already moved out.”

I froze.

“What?”

“I came back because Chloe told me you were there.”

My heartbeat quickened.

“So?”

“So I had planned to ask you to dinner.”

All the air seemed to leave the room.

“Before your assignment?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

His expression became complicated.

“Because ten minutes before I arrived, someone sent me a file about you.”

I stared at him.

“What kind of file?”

“A background report.”

My confusion turned to disbelief.

“Why would anyone investigate me?”

“That’s what I spent three years trying to understand.”

He reached the door.

I caught his sleeve.

“Alexander, stop.”

He turned.

“What was in the report?”

For the first time since I had known him, Alexander looked genuinely reluctant to answer.

Finally he said:

“It claimed Sarah Zhou wasn’t your real name.”

My fingers slowly released his sleeve.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I thought so too.”

“It is my name.”

“I know.”

“Then why does this matter?”

Alexander reached into his jacket and removed a folded photograph.

He handed it to me.

It showed a much younger Alexander standing beside several people I didn’t recognize.

One of them was a woman.

She looked almost exactly like me.

Same eyes.

Same smile.

Same small mark beside her eyebrow.

On the back of the photograph was a date.

Twenty-three years ago.

Below it, someone had written two words.

SARAH ZHOU.

My hands began to shake.

“That’s impossible.”

Alexander’s phone rang again.

He ignored it.

I looked from the photograph to him.

“If that woman is Sarah Zhou…”

My voice barely came out.

“…then who am I?”

Alexander didn’t answer.

And suddenly the three unopened love letters on my table were no longer the biggest secret from three years ago.